


Heaven Can Wait

by olivebranchesandredwine (DocOlive)



Series: Heaven Can Wait, But Patrick Can't [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Queer Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Patrick is a horny troll, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocOlive/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: David thinks it will be romantic to abstain before the wedding. Patrick, not so much.





	Heaven Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovelies at the Rosebudd, who are an entire bar full of Mariah Careys. I love y'all.

It had been David’s idea to abstain before the wedding. Nothing crazy, just a month. They’d gone that long without it before; it was just a matter of going back to the early days of their relationship, back to when they were taking it slow, back to when everything was new and intense and exciting and terrifying. David thought it would be romantic, a way to make their wedding night something extra special. David thought Patrick, king of Big Romantic Gestures, would appreciate the sweetness, the symbolism of it.

David, however, thought wrong. In the rush of dealing with his mom’s breakdown and Alexis being off in the middle of the ocean and wedding planning, David’s memory of those first few months with Patrick had somehow blurred into a rather inaccurate, RomCom-worthy nostalgia fest. He’d forgotten just how goddamned much he’d had to _work_ to maintain Patrick’s boundaries in the early days of their relationship. And that was before he really even understood just just how horny his fiancé could be. If David thought it was hard to keep Patrick in check _then_? Well, this time around, Patrick Brewer seemed determined to send him to an early grave.

For starters, Patrick had negotiated David’s romantic month of celibacy down to a week by playing dirty, by playing _very dirty._ While David was on the phone with the caterer in the first week of the month, he’d knelt in front of where David was sitting on the sofa, pulled his soft cock free from his joggers and taken it into his mouth. He fucking _sat_ there, on the floor, with his mouth wrapped around David’s dick and _just watched_ while David finalized the reception menu, teasing just enough with his tongue to keep David thoroughly unnerved throughout the call.

By the time David had gotten off that phone call, he was too far gone to object when Patrick slipped his joggers down his hips so that he could mouth wet kisses down his shaft, tease his balls. David had forgotten he’d ever even considered abstaining when Patrick finally brought that beautiful, sloppy mouth to lick along David’s rim and toy with his hole. He needed to relieve some tension, anyway, what with the store being so busy lately and having to finalize details with vendors and guests for the wedding and _oh fucking god_ did Patrick’s mouth feel good. And so David had leaned his head back against the sofa cushion, run his fingers through the curls finally starting to show at the top of Patrick’s head, and just given in to the sensation. “Mmmm….fuck me, Patrick,” he’d groaned, and his dirty-dealing fiancé had been more than happy to oblige, immediately sliding a lubed finger in— _the cocky bastard already had the lube ready—_ David started to be grumpy, but then Patrick added another finger and then crooked those fingers to massage his prostate. David’s breath caught, and then he kind of forgot why he was supposed to be grumpy anyway and thrust himself onto Patrick’s fingers with a breathy “more, please,” sighing happily when Patrick slipped a third finger in to work him open in earnest. When Patrick removed his fingers, David was writhing wantonly, putty in his fiancé’s powerful hands.

“Turn around, babe,” Patrick murmured in his ear, and David was eager to please. He turned so that he was kneeling on the sofa and wiggled his ass, grinning over his shoulder at the image of them, two grown men, still fully dressed from the waist up with their pants down around their ankles like some sort of pornographic Donald Ducks getting ready to fuck. “We look ridiculous,” he mused as he watched Patrick dribble lube into his hand and then slide his fist up and down his beautiful, hard cock. Patrick chuckled while he slowly jerked himself, and then smiled that zillion-watt, teasing grin as he leaned into David. “Shut up, Pooh Bear,” he said, nipping gently at David’s ear. And suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore; David leaned forward to brace himself against the back of the sofa and arched his back, desperate for Patrick’s cock. 

Patrick splayed one hand against David’s hip, the other guiding himself to David’s entrance, and then just _stood there._ David felt the heat of Patrick’s body against his back, his fingers pressing hard enough to mark his hip, and….nothing. David whimpered, “Patrick?” his voice coming out reedy and whiny. He crooked his head and looked back to see Patrick’s shit-eating grin. “What?” David snapped.

“It’s less than a month til the wedding, David,” Patrick’s voice got very serious, but his eyes were twinkling, “It sure would be romantic to abstain.”

Was this sadistic motherfucker actually doing this _now?_ So maybe an undignified little whine escaped his mouth before David could formulate a response.“You asshole. We’re getting divorced.”

Patrick teased David’s hole with the head of his cock and leaned in to lick a trail up David’s neck. “Are we? That’s a shame. I was looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you, David Rose.” He nibbled and licked and sucked that place behind David’s ear as he continued to rub his cock against David’s ass.

“Please, Patrick,” David whimpered.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he pressed himself inside David, moving ever so slowly until he was fully sheathed. “Better, love?” Patrick mouthed the words against David’s ear as he wrapped an arm around David’s chest. He kept his movements teasingly slow, an unhurried burn that made David groan and try to push himself harder onto Patrick’s cock. He _tried,_ at least, but Patrick wasn’t letting him get the right traction, and just kept up that agonizing, tantalizing slow roll of his hips, pushing all the way in, and then pulling almost all the way out. David felt like he was going to die before he got what he needed to come, and it was going to be an exquisite, awful death and all that time spent on wedding planning would have been for nothing.

“Please, Patrick,” he repeated himself for maybe the first or fifteenth time, David’s brain wasn’t keeping track of things like words when Patrick was moving his dick like that and he just wanted _more now please._ David shifted his position so that he could rest his weight on one forearm, and then wrapped his free hand around his aching cock, spreading the precum across the head with his thumb. “More please,” his voice was a little shrill and needy, but he didn’t care. “Fuck me harder. Now. Please.” He started to jerk himself, struggling to move his hips just _a little faster,_ to get Patrick moving harder, deeper, faster. More.

And finally _finally_ something registered; maybe he’d said the right number of _pleases_ or hit the note Patrick was listening for or _something_ , whatever it was, Patrick _finally_ gave David what he needed. He brought both hands to David’s hips, fingers curling in enough to bruise, and fucked up into David, hard and fast. The apartment echoed with the sound of their pleasure, of skin slapping against skin, of panting, of wordless groans and moaned obscenities— _Fuck me Patrick. Yes. There. More._ So Good Babe. _Fuck. Me._ Yes Good _More—_ until both men were on the edge of climax, thrusting and grunting and jerking, faster and harder, _yes right there_ and then David was coming into his hand and making a mess on the sofa cushions, but that’s something to deal with later. Patrick lasted a few more thrusts once David started clenching around him and then he was following David into the abyss, his release exploding into David’s heat, leaving him breathless with legs shaking. Patrick rested his forehead onto David’s back as he pulled out, and then collapsed next to him on the sofa.

They sat there for a while, panting, messy from sweat and lube and come. “You forgot the sex towel,” David huffed, coming back down to earth. “I’ll clean up the mess” Patrick leaned over to kiss David’s temple. David could feel the smile against his cheek. “You sure will,” he tried to school his face into a grimace but failed miserably when he saw that adorable grin. “You fight dirty, Patrick Brewer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, David,” he said with a look of such wide-eyed innocence a lesser man might have actually believed the cocky bastard.

“OK, David. How about we abstain a week? Would that be romantic enough for you, love?” And then Patrick was pressing fluttering, gentle kisses along his face and wrapping those strong arms around David’s shoulders, pulling him into that broad chest and _yes,_ David thought, _a week sounds wonderfully romantic_ as they snuggled up together, still messy and bare-assed, on the clean end of the sofa, but that would be a problem for future Patrick.

And speaking of things to do…David probably needed to touch base with the caterer just to confirm that menu; he’d been a bit distracted during that conversation. _Another item on the to-do list._


End file.
